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We stood side by side at the counter, me at the stove, him at the cutting board. I added a handful of spices to the pan without measuring.

"You don't measure?"

"My mother never measured."

"How do you know it's enough?"

I shrugged. "I just do."

He didn't look convinced. I pulled a spoon from the drawer, dipped it in the pan, and tasted it. It tasted exactly as I'd expected. I pulled a second spoon from the drawer, dipped it in the pan, and held it up to him.

He looked at the spoon, then at me.

"I'm not trying to poison you."

He leaned in and tasted it. His eyebrows went up before he could stop them.

"Okay?"

"...it's good."

"See?"

He went back to the cutting board. "I still think a recipe is more reliable."

"And yet."

He almost smiled. Hazel announced from the table that the volcano needed more red on top so the lava would look real when it erupted.

Dinner was easy. Hazel talked and Alex listened. I watched this tall, formal man handle my daughter with a gentleness I didn't expect from him. He passed her the salt when she pointed at it. He let her serve him a second scoop of rice because she'd decided he needed more. He answered every question she asked, and Hazel leaned into it in a way she rarely did around people she'd just met. Watching my daughter trust him that easily made me want things I'd stopped letting myself want.

After dinner, Hazel looked at the volcano on the table. Painted but not erupted. The jars on the counter with pipe cleaner shapes hanging inside, no crystals yet.

"We still have to do the eruption. And the foam one."

I looked at the clock. "It's getting late, bug."

"Can Alex come back and do them with us?"

He looked at me.

I smiled.

"I'll come back," he told her.

"You promise?"

"I promise."

I carried her to bed. When I came back, I walked him to the door.

"Thank you for dinner," he said.

"Thank you for helping her."

He paused at the door and looked at me. Those blue eyes were going to be a problem. I watched them drop to my mouth and stay there. For a second, I was half expecting him to lean in and kiss me.

"Goodnight, Janine."